


The Force Provides

by scarletjedi



Series: quiobi week 18 [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, QuiObi week 2018, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: But touch my tears, with your lipsTouch my world, with your fingertips.And we can have foreverAnd we can love foreverForever is our today“Who Wants to Live Forever” - Queen





	The Force Provides

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the QuiObi Week day 1 prompt: bed sharing. It was developed with the help of Kettish and betad with the help of punsbulletsandpointythings. Thank you, darlings!

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and breathed in a calming breath. This was not Cody’s fault. It was nobody’s fault, just another inconvenience of war. 

Honestly, it rankled _and_ amused him that he couldn’t actually blame Qui-Gon for this mess. 

Not _this_ time, anyway. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, facing the blank faceplate of his commander’s helmet that still somehow radiated displeasure. “It’s alright, Cody,” he said, tucking his hands as he crossed his arms, wishing that he hadn’t lost his cloak...somewhere. The quartermaster was going to put him on short-rations, soon. “We’ve been in tighter scrapes before. Besides, it would not be the first time Master Jinn and I shared quarters.” Obi-Wan smiled. “Get the men settled. I’ll worry about our visiting Jedi.” 

“Sir,” Cody said, and how that man managed to get that much judgement into a single word was truly a marvel. Obi-Wan waved him off — _commentary received, Thank you, Cody_ — and took a moment to give into temptation and rub his temples. 

The war had dragged on for over a year. Qui-Gon had been away from the Temple for nearly the entire length of the war, disappearing for long stretches of time with his team before popping up somewhere unexpected. And, soon after he reappeared, the holonews reports would follow of mysterious events such as destroyed factories and exposed cartels and stounched profiteering. Qui-Gon’s history of finding trouble finally had a weaponized use, and he was proving to be quite good at it. 

This time, however, Qui-Gon had popped up where Obi-Wan was meant to be — and was also temporarily cut off from The Negotiator and their additional supplies. It was a mix of opportunity and inconvenience. Perfectly Qui-Gon.

They would make it work — the men were nothing if not resourcefulness personified. It wouldn’t stretch them too thin to add the five extra mouths of Qui-Gon and his team. They were unhurt, so Helix and his team did not need to split their focus. The largest issue was simply _lodging_. Qui-Gon’s men could easily bunk with Obi-Wan’s, but protocol stated that the Jedi were to have their own tents. With the war new enough that Obi-Wan’s men had only ever seen him share with Anakin while he had still been a Padawan, it was easy enough to see a seeming outsider as an unknown entity — and unknown entities made his men twitchy. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly fond of them himself, and despite his decade at Qui-Gon’s side, after the ensuing years and distance that had grown between them, Qui-Gon was very much an unknown entity. 

Looking across the camp, Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon as he spoke with his team, struck by a powerful deja vu. From a distance, his former Master appeared unchanged — he was still too tall with broad shoulders, thick with muscle — an imposing figure that towered over the clones with a bearing that spoke of a lifelong and habitual fighter. 

It was only as Obi-Wan drew closer that he began to notice the true differences. Qui-Gon’s hair was still long, half tied back, but there was far more grey than brown in those strands and pure white had shot through his beard. Obi-Wan could sympathize with that — he’d been finding white hairs at his temples for the last few years and had begun teasingly blaming them on Anakin — and his natural auburn was now more of a burnt copper highlighted with gold from sun exposure. In his more self-reflective moments, he thought wouldn’t be surprised at all if he went fully white in the next ten years. 

Closer still and Obi-Wan could see that there were lines in Qui-Gon’s face that hadn’t been there before, and a certain stiffness to his posture that spoke of a different center of gravity — the legacy of the complicated and long-lasting medical procedures that had ultimately saved Qui-Gon’s life. It made Obi-Wan’s heart beat painfully as his memory of that day rose up from the depths to which it had been banished and threatened to overtake him. 

Pausing in his approach, Obi-Wan pushed that knot away once more, shoving it deep as he could, but it didn’t sink quite as far as it usually did, or as easily. It would seem that simply being in Qui-Gon’s presence was enough to drag it all up again as if fresh. 

They were due to contact The Negotiator tomorrow for check-in. Less than a day. One night. He could manage one night. 

Qui-Gon looked up then, as if sensing Obi-Wan’s thoughts, their eyes meeting with enough force as to nearly make Obi-Wan retreat. 

_Just. One. Night._ Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan forced himself forward to tell Qui-Gon of the arrangement. He was being over dramatic and ridiculous. How bad could it be?

* * *

“Oh no,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself later. “This is so much worse.” 

Qui-Gon had taken the news of their shared accomodations with his usual level of infuriating equanimity. Despite the nearly hostile presence of his troops, Qui-Gon had simply nodded to signify that he had heard, saying “The Force will provide.” 

Absolutely. Infuriating. Man.

In Obi-Wan’s experience, the Force only gave answers when you bothered to _look_ for them — which Obi-Wan had done. Had been doing. For the past several hours. 

Which was why, when he returned at last to the tent — something he would have previously avoided altogether as an inconvenient yet acceptable solution, but Cody had direct orders from Helix to sit on Obi-Wan if necessary to get him to sleep. In his tent. For several hours. At once — he was in a truly foul mood.

Obi-Wan could have protested Helix’s order, but he was saving that for something truly dire, like when the lives of his men were at stake. 

He _so very much_ wanted to count this as a dire emergency, but Obi-Wan was tired and his judgement on personal matters always suffered when he was tired. 

The point of his current consternation was the interior of the tent, and while Qui-Gon’s presence alone would have been enough to disconcert Obi-Wan, the bigger issue was the bed. 

The single bed. 

The single, solitary bed that was somehow _larger_ than standard. Though not the width of two beds across, it was clearly meant for sharing. 

Where had Cody dug up that bed?

More, why the silent implication that they would _want_ to be sharing? 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed in deep to center himself. He didn’t have long before — 

“Ah. I wasn’t — Small Gods, is that the bed?“ 

Before Qui-Gon appeared. 

Obi-Wan turned, his smile automatic to cover his distress. 

It was worse up close. It was so much worse. 

Qui-Gon was staring at the bed with the same sort of confused consternation that Obi-Wan had once seen turned towards the Council when they told him something he wasn’t expecting and didn’t want to hear, and Obi-Wan had to bite his lip against the sudden giddy wave of relief at seeing _any_ expression on his face rather than that indifferent mask. 

“Apparently,” Obi-Wan said, his voice wry, and watched as Qui-Gon continued to boggle. 

At last, Qui-Gon shook his head, turning to face Obi-Wan, and whatever he was going to say stopped with a visible double-take, before he stared. It was enough to make Obi-Wan flinch, stung, but Qui-Gon began talking, almost steamrolling over any possible conversation. 

“There’s a spot on the cliff that catches the sunset while still being well protected,” Qui-Gon began. “You would need Jedi reflexes to climb that high without assistance, anyway. I was about to head there, for evening meditation.” He stopped abruptly, and Obi-Wan blinked, bewildered. He opened his mouth to speak, but Qui-Gon burst out, “Would you like to join me?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, startled. That...sounded lovely, actually. Being forced to interact with Qui-Gon Jinn when he was determined to be cold was nothing short of hellish, but there was no way Obi-Wan could say this Qui-Gon was being indifferent — and he hated that he responded so easily to any crumb of affection from this man, but this was such a departure from the last ten years of silence — he nodded, agreeing. Nothing would be gained without a first step. 

Maybe Qui-Gon was ready to forgive him, after all.

* * *

The last days of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship were a pained and confusing blur. He remembered fear and sleeplessness as his dreams turned dark. He remembered the overwhelming dread that weighed on everything he did — and the sense of terrible inevitability that had settled in like a fog when he shook the hand of a nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker. 

It had all moved so quickly from then; the fateful Council meeting, the sudden flight back to Naboo, the last encounter with the Sith—

Qui-Gon, pierced through by glowing red and falling to the ground — cradled in Obi-Wan’s arms as his life force faded away, leaving a last request with a brush of his fingers. 

The healers all said it was a miracle that Qui-Gon survived long enough for them to be found (but Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t a miracle but sheer, stubborn pig-headedness on his part, the selfish heart of him that had refused to let go. He never spoke of that part, not even to Yoda). 

Then, the healers said it would be a miracle if Qui-Gon woke at all, and then if he woke the same as before, then returned to the same physicality, etc, etc. Every time the medics said it would take a miracle, Qui-Gon pulled through, a little stronger than before. 

It still took years, and no one was truly sure where his progress would end, only that, somewhere, it would. It was nearly a year before Qui-Gon woke from his initial coma, and then five years of physical therapy to bring himself back to even close to what he had been. Anakin was already nine when he was introduced to Temple life, early for a Padawan to be chosen, but no one felt that they had the time to wait. 

Obi-Wan was knighted by Yoda with little fanfare, with only Mace as witness. He took on Anakin the following day, and for their first few months together, they were often mistook for brother padawans, before Obi-Wan’s hair grew in. 

Qui-Gon was returned to the Temple after a month in critical care on Naboo. Obi-Wan and Anakin had been off-planet when he had woken. Mace had said that his first words upon waking had been asking after “his Padawan.” Obi-Wan hadn’t asked who Qui-Gon meant. 

Ultimately, Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to prevent Anakin from visiting the man who had campaigned so fiercely for his admittance to the order — the man who _would_ have been his Master, if not for the Sith — but he, himself, never went to visit. 

(That wasn’t entirely true. Obi-Wan had given in to temptation once, when Qui-Gon still spent more time asleep than awake. In the early hours of the morning, when some would still consider it late the night before, he had crept into Qui-Gon’s room in the Halls of Healing, and watched him sleep, pale and too thin, but _breathing_. He was gone before anyone knew he had been there.)

He hadn’t been able to avoid Qui-Gon completely, however. Once he had been elected to the Council, he had seen him fairly regularly, but Qui-Gon’s disdain for the Council remained intact even though his long coalescence and probation. Obi-Wan was therefore counted among their number and treated with the same disdainful distance, even when Obi-Wan argued in Qui-Gon’s favor. It helped, that distance, when Qui-Gon refused to see _Obi-Wan_ and insisted on _Councilor Kenobi._

Or _General_ Kenobi. 

Now, however, Obi-Wan found himself following Qui-Gon across camp to the far side, where the cliffs raised high above them, offering shelter. They attracted a certain amount of attention, the way a higher ranking officer always did, and Obi-Wan offered soft greetings to those that called out to him. 

Qui-Gon’s Brothers, however, just watched the progression, their feelings hidden behind their buckets. 

Once they reached the base of the cliff, it was clear that Qui-Gon had been right: without specialized climbing equipment, the ledge would be inaccessible to any but Jedi and perhaps a more adventurous native mountain goat. They fell into sync like an old habit, and Obi-Wan was relieved to see Qui-Gon moving without difficulty. It had been some time since Obi-Wan had found himself free-climbing a sheer surface, but it was a relief to see that the motions came back easily enough. 

It took a bit of effort, and a healthy nudge from the Force, to make some of the longer stretches that Qui-Gon made, being that the man was freakishly tall. Still, when Obi-Wan landed on the edge with a whimsical flip, he found himself almost smiling, exhilarated from the climb. (He had always been a physical person, but how long had it been since he’s pushed his body for something other than combat? In a situation that wasn’t life or death?)

Qui-Gon seemingly took no notice, cleaning off a space for the two of them by piling the scattered rocks along the back of the ledge. It gave Obi-Wan time enough to look around. 

The ledge was high enough off the ground to see the whole of the camp, over the ridge that created their Northern border and into the mountains beyond. The land looked squished, like the wrinkled metal casing of a speeder after a high-speed collision, and Obi-Wan frowned. 

“Tectonics?” he asked. “That’s strange. The reports said nothing of seismic activity.” 

“The continents have shifted, but most of this was done ages ago” Qui-Gon said. “Much of the activity is now underwater. Earthquakes can happen, but tsunami’s are much more likely. We’re too far inland for them to present a problem, however.” He turned around, looking hesitant. “It will be in my report,” he said. 

Obi-Wan nodded, looking back over the lands. “Mine too,” he said, absently. “Qui-Gon, this is absolutely breathtaking.” And it was. The setting sun painted the side of the mountains in brilliant pinks and oranges and golds, the clouds that hovered low, trapped between them were a shadowed lavender, and the sky behind was brilliant blue fading to midnight behind them. 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed simply after a long enough pause that Obi-Wan turned to look at him. He looked almost...hesitant as he looked out at the sky before them. “The Force is singing. Can you feel it?” 

It took a moment for Obi-Wan to lower his shields enough to feel the Force around them, and it resonated very much like a song, indeed. “I do,” he said, voice soft. “This is a wonderful place for meditation, Qui-Gon, thank you.” 

“That’s twice,” Qui-Gon said, almost to himself, and Obi-Wan looked at him in confusion. Qui-Gon cleared his throat, looking like a youngling caught with a hand in a cookie jar, but he answered the unspoken question anyway. “That you’ve called me Qui-Gon. Twice.” 

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, aiming for levity with a smile. “It is your name.” When Qui-Gon didn’t smile back right away, Obi-Wan’s face fell. “I don’t have to, if you wish it.” 

“No,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan’s heart sank. “I mean, I don’t wish. Qui-Gon is fine, if I may call you Obi-Wan.” 

Why wouldn’t Qui-Gon call him by name? “Obi-Wan is my name,” he said. “You’ve always been free to use it.” 

“Have I?” Qui-Gon asked, and there was pain behind that question — confusing, inexplicable _pain_. “No, no. Forget I said anything.” He gestured towards the cleared area. “Please.” 

Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon for a moment, but since when had he truly been able to deny this man anything? “Of course,” he said, and knelt. 

Initiates to the Temple are taught to meditate seated. As they grow and gain further control over themselves, they learn to kneel on soft mats. By the time an Initiate is chosen as a Padawan, the soft mat is replaced by a woven mat, with some exceptions for species with more delicate knees. As Qui-Gon’s Padawan, traveling all over the world, Obi-Wan had knelt on towels and blankets, mats and his own cloak, or as now, on the bare earth. It was surprisingly nostalgic. 

The rock was firm, softened by a mound of dirt that was powder fine, and Obi-Wan felt any lingering discomfort from the last few days ease as his body settled into such a familiar position. 

Qui-Gon was a little slower to kneel — Obi-Wan used to tease Anakin that one of the downsides to being tall was that he had a farther distance to the ground. Qui-Gon was proof that he wasn’t entirely joking — but settled into place next to Obi-Wan as if he never left. 

Before he brought himself to focus, Obi-Wan said, softly, “You have,” and waited for Qui-Gon to nod before sinking down into the Force.

* * *

“Your men don’t seem to like me much,” Obi-Wan commented as they re-entered their tent. The staring had continued on their tip back through the camp. 

Qui-Gon waved it off. “They’re protective,” he grumbled fondly. “They found out about my,” he paused, placing his hand over his solar plexus, “and took it as a personal offense. They’re more upset at me for climbing the cliff than that you didn’t try to stop me.” 

“Qui-Gon, if being your Padawan taught me anything, it’s that not even death itself could stop you, if you did not want it to,” Obi-Wan said, dry. Qui-Gon looked startled, and Obi-Wan turned away, picking up his datapad. Cody was supposed to take his after a certain hour of Obi-Wan’s enforced rest, per Helix of course, but what Cody didn’t know...

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon began, halting, and Obi-Wan held up his hand because he just couldn’t hear Qui-Gon speak on it, not right now. 

“I can joke of it only because it didn’t happen. I shudder to think how I might have reacted if you had—” He broke off, clicking over to a new report with more force than necessary. The silence only lasted for a few moments. 

“It nearly did,” Qui-Gon said quietly, and Obi-Wan froze. The bed squeezed a bit as it settled under Qui-Gon’s weight. “If not for finding Kamino, I would still be on the disabled list, Temple-Bound. At least a third of my organs are cloned, at this point,” he said. Obi-Wan looked up, surprised. There was a reason that cybernetic prosthetics were more common than cloned parts, and that was mostly due to the restriction on cloned material. By allowing the medics to replace certain organs, Qui-Gon was severely limiting the number of planets he could be sent to. 

Knowing Qui-Gon, it might have been in part a calculated risk, but, while the war was on, at least, those laws were deemed unenforceable. A planet couldn’t ask for Republic assistance, if they had outlawed the presence of said assistance. 

Obi-Wan looked up to see Qui-Gon rubbing his chest once again. “Slicer was the first to call me half-brother,” he offered. “They’re protective.”

“They are,” Obi-Wan agreed, thinking of Cody carrying his lightsaber, of the way Rex followed after Anakin and Ahsoka. He took a deep breath. “I’ve got some paperwork to finish. Don’t let me keep you up.” He turned back to his pad. 

After a moment he heard the bed shift again. Minutes passed, the sound of his chrono loud in his ears, before he realized Qui-Gon had fallen asleep. 

Later, after Cody somehow figured out that Obi-Wan was still awake and sent him a pointed reminder to “Please go to bed sir. I don’t want to have to wake up Helix,” Obi-Wan removed his outer tunics and crawled into bed next to Qui-Gon. 

He expected to lay in bed awake, no longer used to the way Qui-Gon snored or seemed to fill the tent, but he had barely laid his head on his pillow before he was deeply asleep.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke, warm and sleep-fuzzy, and tried to turn into his source of comfort when he realized he couldn’t move. 

It was enough to snap him to full wakefulness, and he took stock of his surroundings. It was dark — the type of deep dark that signified the middle of the night, though the glow from the camplight in the corner lit the tent enough for him to make out shapes in the gloom. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or two, but in that time, Qui-Gon had turned into some sort of clinging tentacle beast. 

At least, it felt as if there were too many arms and legs in the bed. Obi-Wan was pressed firmly against Qui-Gon’s front, held immobile by the arm around his chest, and another lingered down by his hip. His legs had slid between Qui-Gon’s, their feet tangled together. 

Obi-Wan blinked into the darkness, trying to make sense of it. Ten years of apprenticeship, and Obi-Wan never woke tangled in Qui-Gon. Perhaps he should extract himself before things got awkward, but... was there any harm if he just let himself enjoy it? Just relax back into the warmth and pretend, here in the dark where no one would know?

It was then that Obi-Wan registered the quiet. From all accounts, and certainly his own experience, Qui-Gon’s broken nose had meant a distinct _sound_ at night — one Anakin, one morning on the Queen’s ship, had compared to a sick bantha. Qui-Gon had been comically offended, but Obi-Wan had been startled into sincere and prolonged laughter. The quiet could only mean one thing.

Qui-Gon was awake. 

As if sensing Obi-Wan’s awareness, the arms around him tightened, and it felt as if Obi-Wan’s heart shivered, loosening his tongue, and laying bare his fears in the dark. 

“But you hate me.”

The words came out small, barely existing in the world, and Obi-Wan felt like the Padawan he had been, heartsore and lost as his life lay still in the medical bed. He gasped to hold back a sob when Qui-Gon let go...

But no, he wasn’t leaving, he was _moving,_ turning Obi-Wan over to face him. It was dark enough that Obi-Wan could barely make out Qui-Gon’s features, filling in the details from memory around the shine of his eyes in the low lamplight. 

His breathing was harsh and rapid, Obi-Wan could feel him against his chest. 

“Hate you?” Qui-Gon breathed out, incredulous. “How could I ever hate you?” 

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be happening. The universe wasn’t that cruel — but Qui-Gon was solid above him and the silence between them was filled with too much tension to be anything but real. He had to answer. “How could you not?” he whispered. “Anakin—” 

“Adores you,” Qui-Gon interrupted, and Obi-Wan felt a flash of irritation — Even in his own confession, Qui-Gon wouldn’t let him finish — but it faded quickly as Qui-Gon’s words sunk in. “I am proud of him, my Grandpadawan, but not nearly as proud as I am of you, who taught him everything — my dear Padawan that I treated so poorly.” 

Obi-Wan shook his head, mouthing “no”, but Qui-Gon’s hand found his cheek, stilling him gently. Qui-Gon’s hand was large, his palm warm against Obi-Wan’s skin. 

“Anakin told me that you blamed yourself for my sins, and in my guilt and willful ignorance, I said I did not believe him. How could you, when it was all so clearly my fault. I should have — once again, my mistakes have caused you, caused us both, so much pain.” His hand trembled. “I thought you stayed away because you hated me... but you never did, did you?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head, deliberate. His heart was pounding. “I was angry for a long time,” he said. “Some days, I still am. But I could never hate you, Qui-Gon.” He closed his eyes, not quite able to look him in the eye. “I should have visited.” 

“It was a street that went both ways,” Qui-Gon said. “If it’s blame, it’s something we share.” He huffed a laugh. “At the very least, we both owe Anakin an apology. He hasn’t been quiet about us getting over ourselves.” 

“He’s going to be insufferable about this,” Obi-Wan said with a gentle laugh, relief swelling through him and making him giddy, but centering him in his body in a new way. Suddenly, he felt the way Qui-Gon was pressed along his side, looming over him, their legs tangled still together. 

Perhaps he could say it after all, the secret he had kept all these years, the root of all the pain and the anxiety that had plagued their relationship toward the end. 

So he did. 

“I love you.” 

Qui-Gon froze, but Obi-Wan felt his fingers twitch. He could be scared, his confession on the air between them, but he wasn’t. 

The Force would provide. Obi-Wan was sure of it. 

“My brave Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. “Was it hard to say?”

“Not in the least,” Obi-Wan said. It was the truth, unvarnished, and the hardest part of facing the truth was over. He smiled. “Do you want to try?” 

Qui-Gon’s laugh rumbled in his chest, and Obi-Wan arched into the sensation. 

“I love you, my Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. “And if you desire, I would be yours.” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, sliding his arms up and around Qui-Gon’s middle, pulling them closer together. “I desire.” 

Everyone in the galaxy knew the Jedi didn’t marry. They were sexless, fey sentinels to a mythical order — wizards with otherworldly gifts. 

Naturally, the deeper, darker parts of the holonet was filled with speculation, poorly acted pornography, and wild tales of orgies deep within the temple. 

The truth was somewhere in the middle: Jedi did not marry, as their commitment was first to the Light, but neither were they encouraged to be fully celibate. They had their health education, same as everyone, and even Obi-Wan had a lover or three as a senior Padawan and young Knight. 

He was grateful for that experience now, as it gave him the confidence to lean up and pull Qui-Gon to him, kissing him deeply. 

Qui-Gon kissed like they had all the time in the world, and Obi-Wan fell into it, losing himself in the warm heat, the slow, slick slide his tongue. 

When he pulled away, Obi-Wan was dizzy with it, leaning up to chase his lips. “Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered, wrecked, a plea and a prayer. 

Obi-Wan twisted his fingers in Qui-Gon’s undertunic, pulling until he touched skin, “Yes.” 

The future was uncertain, their past was a minefield, but here, tonight, in the near-complete darkness of the tent, they had each other. 

They would make the most of it.

* * *

Morning came far too early, and Obi-Wan turned away from the light, tucking his face into Qui-Gon’s chest, smiling when he heard Qui-Gon chuckle. 

“Five more minutes,” Obi-Wan said into Qui-Gon’s skin, and the chuckling became full on laughter. 

“I would give you hours, if I could,” Qui-Gon rumbled. “But the men will come for us soon.” 

Obi-Wan sighed, resigned, and lifted his head to kiss Qui-Gon. “Alright,” he muttered against Qui-Gon’s mouth. “You win.” 

“Every moment with you is a win.” 

“Don’t start,” Obi-Wan grumbled fondly, and pulled the sheets back. 

They dressed slowly, taking the time to reach out and touch as they wanted, not knowing when they would again meet. 

If they would again meet. 

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan’s arm just before he pulled the tent flap back, kissing him deeply. Obi-Wan felt his toes curl in his boots as he clutched at the man he loved, letting himself be bent backwards, trusting that Qui-Gon wouldn’t let him fall. They seperated slowly, faces pressed together, sharing air. 

_’I love you,’_ Qui-Gon thought. _’Remember that,’_

“I will,” Obi-Wan said aloud, lowering his shields enough for Qui-Gon to feel the swirling _love, trust, warm_ that filled him. 

One final check and they stepped from their tent, as professional as ever. 

Cody and Slicer were there to meet them, and had clearly been waiting for some time, when, deliberately blatant, Slicer passed Cody a credit chip. 

“Slicer!” Qui-Gon said, scandalized and a little pleased. 

“I know, I know. I should never bet against you,” Slicer said as Cody tucked the chip away, cool as if butter wouldn’t melt. Obi-Wan bit his lip at the look on Qui-Gon’s face, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to reprimand Slicer to commend his loyalty. 

“You weren’t really being subtle, sir,” Cody said. 

Obi-Wan decided that he wasn’t going to let it bother him. “One day, Cody, the entire fleet will know of your reputation, and you won’t have any unsuspecting brothers left to fleece.” 

“We’ll just have to end this war early, then, Sir,” Cody said, unapologetic. 

Obi-Wan just sighed, and saw Qui-Gon gently cuff Slicer on the back of his helmet, amusement clear on his face. “You know what, Cody? I wholeheartedly agree.” 

It wouldn’t be his first miracle, after all. The Force would provide.


End file.
